NOTES FROM A DEMONSTRATION AGAINST THE TROOP SURGE
“La senora tambien…” – words in rapid Spanish come from the two women sitting behind me on BART I strain to understand, but can only make out a little of what they are talking about. How difficult it would be to live in Mexico, I think. And how difficult for immigrants who come here speaking a foreign language.
Earlier, while I waited for the train at Fifth and Powell, I realized that nearly everyone was wearing black or somber colors. Here and there a red jacket, a pink hoodie and backpack stood out against the drabness of our clothing. People were laden with shopping bags from Nordstrom, Macys, Old Navy. Shopping bags filled with things they probably didn’t need.
I have just come from a demonstration against the 30,000 troops Obama is sending into Afghanistan. A crowd of us had gathered at dusk near Hallidie Plaza on Market Street in San Francisco. One person after another shouted out passionate speeches through a microphone. A cold night. I was getting hoarse from yelling slogans “What do we want? We want peace.” “Afghanistan attack. We step back.” A man was carrying a placard that read“9/11 was an inside job.” He handed me fliers. I believe him.
A cold raw dark night. Red and blue lights flashed from the motorcycles of policemen who were monitoring our procession. A woman beat a drum that she wore strapped to her body. She was wrapped in scarves, a long skirt, a jacket, her hair hidden. It was so cold. We were dressed in drab – no dancing in the streets. A man shouted through a bullhorn as we walked. Lots of cameras flashed. TV news trucks were here, making the most of a small turnout of several hundred people. Most of the bystanders applauded and shouted slogans in support, but one man jeered, “These are the liberals who voted for Obama.”
I am one grain of sand on a beach – just one grain.
The BART train rolls on. The fluorescent overhead lights irritate me. The two women chatter on in Spanish.
